Door 7
by ChickenGoddess
Summary: The untold strory behind door #7, more specifically, the story of Suzy Kokshka.
1. Suzy

**A/N:** I'm finally back after the World's Longest Hiatus.  The idea for this story came when I was watching one of the Oscar-centric episodes and I wondered why there was so little mention of Suzy and her past.  With the help of some members of the Hey Arnold! message board (I will thank them later  individually) I was able to create Suzy's life.  Hope you like it, R&R to let me know what you like, what you don't and if you want me to continue.  This is an experiment.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I was not the Winner of the PowerBall and I'm still too poor to buy HA!.  Until then, they are owned by Viacom and Nick.

Door #7 

By:

ChickenGoddess

I had that dream again last night.  

The one where I could fly. 

 I flew over rivers, valleys and mountains, the cool wind caressing my face and playing with my hair.  I stood on the balcony and jumped into the air, suspended above the ground.  I spread my arms and flew far away, to the ends of the earth.  The colors had never been more radiant or vivid, the sun had never shone brighter.  I didn't even know where I was going, but I was happy because I was free.  My head was free, all cares dismissed as I glided through the blue utopia.

And then I woke up.

Shivering from the bitter cold of our room I realize to my dismay that I'm no longer flying, no longer free, but bound to the Sunset Arms boarding house.  Not that it's a bad thing to be here, everyone has pretty much become my family.  Still, I can't help but feel a detachment from them, as if I don't truly exist in their eyes.  The things most of them attempted to keep secret have leaked out and together we've conquered the demons of the past.  Everyone but me. To them, I'm nothing more than Mrs. Kokshka, the girl who married deadbeat Oscar.  Sometimes that's a good thing… I really don't want to disclose the depths of my past with the boarders.

Rolling out of bed I sigh as I grab my work clothes and head down the hall into the shower.  I'm already awake and out before the rest of the house hears their alarm go off.  I don't mind it, though.  For me, work is an outlet.  A place to get away from it all and just escape everything.  

You probably look at what you've seen of my life and ask yourself what happened.  A girl so young and energetic… so _full of promise_ as they told me, has amounted to nothing but a workaholic with a deadbeat husband who has lived in the same room for nine years.  While I'll admit the days of being _full of promise_ are long gone, I can't say that I hate my lot in life.  I could have had more, maybe been rich and retired, but putting the two in juxtaposition I'm happy with what I have.  People think I'm crazy for that, but there were no other options.  I never had options.  Everything was always "Suzy, be a good girl," "Suzy, go to church, "Suzy, you're not going to collage," "Suzy, we'll run your life because you'll screw it up".  I made the best with what I had.  Nobody sees it that way… nobody but me.

"Miss, I think that color would be radiant against your complexion." I reply, attempting to make a sale.

"You think so?" She asks.

"Of course."

"I'll take it!" She replied.

I ring up her purchase and wait for the next customer.  For some reason, I really enjoy doing this.  Department store work does a number on your feet, but its more beneficial than people think.  I have a sort-of knack for the work, God only knows why.  I've always loved colors… makeup especially.  My mother hated that.  Hated colors and makeup.  No one really knew why… she just hated them.  She was a plain and simple woman who still lived as if the Woman's Rights Movement had never occurred.  My father was a Catholic and a hard worker who understood the value of education.  I was born and raised on a farm where the number of cows outnumbered the people, 10:1.  I hated the farm.  From the first day to the very last I hated the farm.  I don't know why… I guess it was like my mother's hate for color.  

I was always different from my family.  Everyone said I got it from my aunt… the one that my mother had sworn off permanently.  I never really knew her.  Only that she had moved to the city and married… and that she had made money in the stock market, which my parents didn't believe in either.  

I was an only child who grew up pretty much friendless on account of my mother.  She taught me how to do everything around the house and the place of a woman in her eyes.  She was tall and blond.  Her features were hard and demanding, her hands always calloused from the housework.  She was extremely punctual to the point of obsession.  While my dad was a strong Catholic, my mother was a religious fanatic.  She believed every word of the Bible and God help whoever dared to take a figurative interpretation in her presence.  

My father was a strong but gentle man.  He had me studying as soon as I could talk.  He was denied the chance to have an education so I guess he was learning from me.  My mother hated to hear me read anything but the Bible.  My father would pretend to be teaching me the Commandments or the Beatitudes while explaining long division.

He wasn't always all about work though.  The two of us would go into town every Saturday and he'd buy me candy and chocolate… all the things my mother despised.  My father encouraged me to be more than just a housewife.  He fed the spirit of adventure my mother tried to kill.  

Maybe that's why I was always attracted to older men… I knew they would take care of me.  

Grade school was nothing special.  However, the conclusion of eighth grade was when things began to change.

"Peter, what's that?" My mother asked, seeing him with an envelope in his hand.

"Suzy's high school enrollment." He replied.

Her stone features grew icy.  "I thought we talked about this." She hissed.

"My daughter is going to receive a formal education, Elizabeth, whether you approve or not."

"What good will it do for her?!  It'll give her reason to believe her crazy notions!  She'll think about the devil of politics and maybe even VOTE!  She'll start complaining about not having a television or a car!  She'll get lazy and forget her duties, wasting her days reading some garbage!" She fumed.

"Take a look around you, Elizabeth.  Suzy deserves more than this!  She could _be_ something and make us proud!  She could learn something and have a better life than you can dream of!"  He then lowered his voice, "She's going."

I went to high school.  Things changed so much during those four short years.  Everything I believed in would be questioned.   I'd make choices that I would never have imagined.  Everything… everything would be different.

**A/N**: I know it's short… but I wanted to get a reaction from readers before I continued with it. Help me out and review!


	2. Deana

**A/N:** Chapter 2… hope you all like it! R&R, remember, this is for YOUR enjoyment!

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1.  I'm too lazy to keep stating the obvious.

Door #7 

By: ChickenGoddess

**Chapter 2:**

**Deana**

The wind picks up as I pass the High School on my way back home.  It's empty now… after all, it is 6:00.  I managed to work another double shift.  I don't mind it, really.  I'm one of those chosen few who enjoy their work and getting paid a little extra never hurt anybody, especially with a husband who has a gambling problem.  It's not his fault, though.  If he had known that his family had a history of gambling addiction, he'd never have started.  I'm not just making excuses for him.  While Oscar isn't Prince Charming by any definition, he's still a good man.  He tries my patience more than often but you have to remember that he wasn't always like that.

I stop for a while and just stare at the High School building.  Mine was so different.  It wasn't nearly as large as this facility… but then again, the school population wasn't even one third of this.  It was a small building, but compared to the pathetic little grammar school I attended it was enormous.  I remember my first day of freshman year.  My mother had forced me to wear a white dress and a straw hat into which she commanded that my hair be tucked into.  I looked like I had stepped out of _The Little House on the Prairie_.  That's when I met Deana. 

Deana was average height with black hair and brown eyes.  Truthfully, she scared me shitless when I met her.  She had fake leather pants with zippers all over and a chain belt. To match these, she had red high top sneakers.  She had a black long-sleeved shirt rolled up to her elbows, exposing huge bracelets with spikes or fake fur. 

"Hey, you got PE first period?" She asked.

I looked at my schedule and answered nervously, "Yes."

"And Music second?"

"Yes."

"Algebra third?"

I nodded.

She extended her hand, "I'm Deana."

I took it weakly and gave a timid shake.

She laughed.  "I don't bite."

"I didn't think you did…" I replied, more frightened than I had ever been in my entire life.

"What's your deal?" She asked.

I looked at her, confused.

"Who are you?" She rephrased.

"I'm Suzy." I answered.

"I don't mean to be rude… but what's with the dress?" She asked.

"My mom made me wear it." I replied.

"Ah.  She strict?"

I made eye contact.  "You have no idea."

"No way.  Is she one of those crazy hippies?"

"What's a hippie?" I asked.

Deana looked at me.  "You're kidding."

"No." I replied.

"Oh my God…" She gasped.  "Do you not have a radio?"

"What's that?"

"You don't have a record player either, do you?" She asked, fascinated.

"No."

"Listen, Suzy.  Are you doing anything after school?" She asked.

"No.  Why?"

"Good.  You're coming over." Deana explained.

I knew my parents would be mad… but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.  After talking to Deana all day, I wasn't so scared of her.  Still, I wondered what it would be like at her house.  Obviously her parents let her wear a lot of black.  My mother said that black was the Devil's Color, and only acceptable at funerals.  I had a lot to learn.

Deana's older brother picked us up from school.  He had black pants, also with chains and a matching T-Shirt that said "The Ramones" on it.  He had black hair and brown eyes like Deana.  He looked strong and handsome.

"How's my favorite sister in the world?" He asked, rolling down the window.

"Can it, suck-up.  I'm your only sister." Deana replied, opening the car door.

"How was your first day?" He asked.

"An experience." She said.  "This is Suzy.  She's coming over."

I followed her into the car and sat down.

"Brian, this is Suzy.  Suzy, this is Brian." Dean said.

Brian extended his hand and I shook it.  He had a strong, firm handshake.  Deana explained that he was 19 and trying to get famous with his band.  She also explained what a "band" was.

I found her parents incredibly amiable.  They were normal and kind, always offering food or soda, trying to make me feel welcome.  I learned that they had moved here from New York because Deana's father had received a job transfer.  Deana's room was covered in posters of bands like The Misfits, The Clash, The Sex Pistols, Joan Jett, Social Distortion, The Ramones, Minor Threat, Guns n' Roses, and Bad Religion to name a few.  She played her favorite records for me and explained that she modeled her style after Joan Jett.  

"You know, my mother would kill me if she knew I liked this music." I said.

"Really?" Deana asked.

"She'd probably kill me if she knew I was _listening_ to music." I answered.

Deana looked at me.

"What?"

"Nothing… it's just… have you ever tried out some makeup?  I think you could pull off the punk look."

Deana was right.  She let me borrow an old pair of black pants and a shirt before she did my makeup.  It did look good.  Looking in the mirror, I felt like a new person.  

I didn't want to leave, but I knew that of I wasn't home in time for dinner, my father would worry and my mother would be angry.  Deana said that it was fine and that I was welcome to come over again tomorrow.  I said that I would walk and she laughed, replying that she and Brian would drive me home.

When I got home, my father began to question me about school, asked me if I liked my classes and if I had made any new friends.

"I met Deana." I replied.

"What's she like?" My father asked.

"She's so nice.  She's in all my classes, and she's really good at English."

"Where's she from?"

"She lived in New York but she moved here over the summer."

"New York, huh?"

"Yes."

"Well, Deana is welcome here anytime, so long as your work is done." He said.

"Suzy… what's on your face?" My mother's icy voice asked.

"…Makeup…"

She gasped.

"Relax, Elizabeth.  It's normal for a girl Suzy's age to wear makeup." My father said.

"It's normal for a _whore_ to wear makeup!" My mother fumed.

"Everyone wears it nowadays." My father countered.

"Not my daughter!"

"Would you let her live a normal life?!" He replied, raising his voice.

"My daughter _will not_ be a whore!"

"We raised her better than that!  Makeup doesn't make anyone a whore, for Christ's sake!" He shouted.

My mother gasped again.

"What did you say, Peter?"

"For… Christ's… Sake… would you stop this?!"

She gasped again.

He just looked at her, refusing to back down.

"The Devil's in you, Peter Martin.  The Devil' in you."

"The Satan's in _you_, crazy woman!"

Again, my mother gasped.  "How… dare… you…" She said again, "How _dare_ you…"

"Come on Suzy.  We're going." My father said, taking my hand and escorting me outside.

Well, needless to say we didn't go back.

**A/N**: The timeframe is accurate… it took painstaking math equations to figure it out.  


End file.
